


Repique

by april_rainer (tom_bedlam)



Category: Society of Gentlemen - K. J. Charles
Genre: David Cyprian/Richard Vane (background), Gabriel Ashleigh/Francis Webster (background), Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28141644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tom_bedlam/pseuds/april_rainer
Summary: Francis Webster doesn't, as a rule, interfere in other people's love affairs, but that doesn't mean he's unaware of them.  Some conversations over piquet.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 55
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Repique

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wildestranger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildestranger/gifts).



"You're distracted," Francis said, shuffling the deck again and putting it in the center of the table to be cut.

"How can you tell? You always win anyway." Dominic reached out and cut deep -- a seven, which was in line with his luck that night.

Francis reached out and followed, cutting a ten before gathering the deck together and starting the deal. "Not generally by this much. Is it Richard's new lover?"

Dominic glanced at the stairs, which clearly answered that question.

"I thought you two were at outs," Francis said, as if it didn't matter. "Captain Norreys seems unexceptional." Not really Richard's type at all; certainly not Francis' or Dominic's. But aside from is rather nauseating taste in waistcoats, Francis liked his sharp wit and air of disengagement. Nothing awkwardly ridiculous would come from that quarter. And ridiculous, Francis reminded himself, trying to avoid thinking about guileless madder blue eyes, was not attractive.

"Never at outs," Dominic said softly, looking back at the table and sorting his hand. "We just came to realize we were -- less suited than we either of us would have wanted. I exchange two."

Francis doubted Dominic really saw the cards as he glanced through the talon before returning an absent gaze to his hand. "One for me," Francis said, suiting action to words. "I don't think the Captain is really suited to Richard's tastes either, you know. It won't last."

"I don't want him to be unhappy," Dominic returned, stung. "Truly, Richard deserves all the happiness. It's not my fault what I want is different from him."

"Mmmmm," Francis said, considering his cards. Never since they'd been boys had Dominic or Richard gone off with a fellow without the other's wistful gaze following. Odds in a certain very select betting pool were even on whether they would work out their differences. Francis, who worked quite hard to keep his own affairs from even the most select public knowledge, had his money on them working things out, but he was willing to admit to himself that that was largely optimism. "Have you heard anything about Lord Liverpoole's proposed tariffs?" Francis said, hoping to give Dominic something else to focus his mind on. "There's talk in the City."

As he'd hoped, Dominic's eyes refocused on the cards. Nothing could distract him from romantic preoccupation as easily as his work, a subject Richard hardly ever featured in.

~~~

"And so," Francis said, leading a ten, "Harry is both freed of an undesirable marriage and comes into a competence. You might be considered fortunate."

Julius grinned and took the trick. "And everyone is so delighted by the new round of gossip, they've forgotten for five minutes that Harry might actually be a young radical not to be trusted at sober dinner tables."

Francis grunted; what a waste of a king. Julius was too elated to be playing well, but it was hard to begrudge him that evening. Harry seemed a nice boy -- well on his way to being one of Gabriel's host of dear friends -- but it was a rare treat to see Julius so lit up. At least they were only playing for chicken-stakes, Francis thought, and one of Julius' more attractive traits was his ability to stop playing when he hadn't the stomach for losing.

Julius led the queen of diamonds and Francis took the trick with the King. "You've only lost Richard a relation he didn't care much for and brought him a bit of scandal. Well, I dare say the mental exercise is good for him."

Julius gave a bark of a laugh. Of all their friends, Francis deeply appreciated Julius' tendency to egg on, rather than attempt to curb, he own acerbic streak. "He's unhappy though, you know. Richard." He played a jack to Francis' king with a sigh, not tracking closely enough to realize the rest of the tricks were lost, but starting to realize where play was going. "Not about Harry, I mean."

"He's been unhappy for a long time, if you mean Dom." Francis' bet on that subject had been switched for over a year. His money was on Dom's Wednesday man these days; Richard was harder to guess at.

Julius shook his head. "Not Dom. I asked. But someone impossible, he says."

"Hmmm." Richard was so picky in his loves, and so insistent that there was a single set of rules that should govern relations between gentlemen. There was a reason Francis didn't mention to Richard the money he spent on his Gabriel; it would give him entirely the wrong idea. Likely it was a married man, or a young one, or a poor one, although running through their acquaintances, Francis couldn't finger who it could possibly be. Perhaps a man uninterested in men -- he wouldn't put it past Richard to make damn fool choices with his heart and he couldn't help but have a certain amount of sympathy on that subject. He felt his lips curl at the knowledge that he was undeservedly blessed by Gabriel.

"I've lost this hand, haven't I?" Julius realized. "And that's the game then. You can go abstract Ash from his cups and do whatever was making you smile like that."

~~~

"Quint," Richard said, blinking at his hand.

Francis swallowed a sigh -- the drink didn't show in his speech or the careful movements of his large frame, but sober Richard was an excellent, if unimaginative, card-player. "Good," Francis murmured, wondering if he should end the game and see about getting Richard to bed.

"Why did you decide to befriend us, back at school?" Richard asked, instead of continuing the declarations.

Francis' index finger stilled its tapping on the back of the thick cardstock. "Is that how you recall it?" he said with an awkward laugh. "My recollection is quite different."

Richard frowned as if the effort pained him. "My dear friend, what do you mean?"

"What do you remember?" Francis countered. His own memories of school were burned into the his mind and his back deeper than he liked to admit. Richard stood tall in those memories, a wall of solid flesh and privilege between the world and anyone he felt it to be unkind to.

"Ah, you were the smartest of our year. I remember Dom cramming before exams to make sure he still beat you out. He was always sure he wouldn't be able to come back if he wasn't top of the class each term. I was just trying to think. I remember Mal taking it into his head to give you a hard time. Around Michaelmas, I think it must have been? And then you started talking to Dom and me."

Francis smiled, although he doubted it was an especially nice smile. "Maltravers gave me a hard time the first day he met me and I couldn't provide an ancestor he wanted to recognize. I generally assumed no one disagreed with him until you punched him in the face at Michaelmas. And they didn't even belt you for it."

"Maltravers is a blight," Richard said with a sigh. "But why did you decide we were friends?"

"Richard," Francis said gently. "You punched the boy who was making my life a living hell. You punched everyone who gave me a hard time. Or Dom. Or anyone who didn't deserve it. Of course we wanted to be your friend."

"But surely you know I can't protect you or anyone else now." Richard was not generally a morose drunk, but it had been a hard month on all of them. Francis' stress tended to exhibit in cutting remarks, which, as Julius said, meant no one could tell the difference from normal.

"Of course you can," Francis said, setting his cards to the side. "You did." He reached out to pull the cards from Richard's unresisting hands.

Richard shook his head. "I didn't though. David did."

"David--? Cyprian, you mean." Francis murmured as the pieces fell into place. A man Richard would love, clever and loyal, who he would not let himself love. It would be unsporting, Francis supposed, to take his money off of Richard remaining unpartnered indefinitely. Francis gripped Richard's shoulder, looking fondly at the bowed head. "Just because you didn't move every piece personally, Richard, doesn't mean you didn't protect us. And I'm not just fond of you for protection, you know. There's a small number of men in this world that I would care for enough to walk to bed three sheets to the wind; be glad you're one of them."

~~~

Richard's valet, back in Richard's livery but with his eye-catching hair unpowdered, was sitting in the library when Francis entered, gaze abstracted on the broad table Dominic's werewolf had claimed as his own. He turned at the sound of the door and rose promptly, trying to fade himself back into the molding like a proper servant. "Were you waiting for Mason? I doubt he'll be back soon. Dom brought the papers and I expect they'll be shouting at one another about politics for a while yet."

Cyprian gave a slight bow and moved to straightened the stacks of paper on Mason's table. It wasn't his work, but he clearly didn't want to leave and wasn't going to stare into space while Francis perused the shelves. He never liked novels, and if he'd wanted to talk politics, he'd have stayed in the parlour with the others. He glanced at the valet again. A clever man, no question.

"Do you play piquet, Cyprian?"

Green eyes lifted briefly in surprise before lowering modestly again. "I am familiar with the rules, yes."

"Care for a game while you wait? Just for points."

The pause would have been too short to notice if Francis wasn't watching for it. He'd surprised the irritatingly omniscient Cyprian; that was something to improve his day, at least a little. Cyprian offered him a small bow to a small card table and fetched a fresh deck, offering the cards to be shuffled and cut.

The played in silence, excepting the tallying of points and tricks. Cyprian was a clever and competent card player, as Francis would have expected if he'd ever given the man much thought prior to this week. Francis dressed himself neatly, of course, but he had no aspirations to be a man milliner like Julius and other people's valets didn't occupy much of this thoughts.

"Lord Richard values your services greatly," Francis observed, watching Cyprian deal the second hand. "You were much missed when you chose to go away."

Cyprian's eyes flicked up to Francis' face then back to his hand. He took his time examining his hand and formulating his response. "I exchange three," Cyprian said, suiting action to words. "Lord Richard is an excellent master and value my place, sir."

Francis exchanged five and glanced at Cyprian. Carte blanche was impossible, given the solitary face card Francis had had to draw. "Point of four in diamonds," Cyprian said, without addressing it.

Francis smiled thinly. "Not good." He hadn't thought the first hand was a fluke, but it was nice to play with someone who knew what they were doing.

"Point of two in hearts."

"How many?"

"Twenty."

"Not good, seventeen."

Play continued. "Do you expect you place to always be held when your amour propre is offended?" Francis asked, considering Cyprian's lead. His own hand was bad, but usually he was able to scrape at least a few points even from a bad hand.

Cyprian's hands stilled on the cards. He didn't raise his eyes from the table, but Francis was sure he had his full attention. "Of course not. I'm honoured my lord was able to find use for me."

"No, you're not. You're delighted to prove that you're cleverer than all the lords and gentry."

Cyprian became, if possible, even more still.

"Oh, I don't mind," Francis continued. "By all means, be clever and vicious to Maltravers' detriment. What I want to know if you're planning to leave Richard looking that gutted again in the near future. Because that I take exception to."

Cyprian's eyes, for the first time out of control, jumped to Francis' face.

"I'm not saying you aren't right to decide against a liaison. But for god's sake, man, do make up your mind. Richard's a better man than most and he doesn't know how to give his heart halfway. If you're enjoying the thrill of conquest, know that he's taking this all absurdly seriously."

Cyprian blinked once, eyes fixed on Francis' face, then he looked back at his cards. "I am very aware."

Francis nodded once. "Good. Have you as fine runs as points?"

"Run of six."

"Not good."

"Also runs of three and four." Cyprian kept his eyes on his cards, but there was a curl to his mouth that suggested he was enjoying this. Francis waited. "Quatorzes, queens."

"It wanted only that. Repique to you, Cyprian."

Cyprian's eyes raised again, now only normally wary. "Shall we play for pound points next time, sir?"

Francis grinned appreciatively. "It would be my genuine pleasure, Cyprian."


End file.
